


Call to Me the Valkyries

by Archaema



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Pharmercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13871616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaema/pseuds/Archaema
Summary: Angela and Fareeha face their last moments in a time of war, bonded in their ancient pact.Warning: People Die in this.In fact, it is the sole point of this short, so feel free to avoid if that is not something you wish to expose yourself to.





	Call to Me the Valkyries

**Author's Note:**

> For Staple and Caleb, based on a short discussion/prompt that was presented asking for some angst, possibly death.

The heavy smoke was acrid and stinging to the eyes, fires both conventional and electrical raging out of control all around the broken walls and street. The staccato pops of gunfire were unceasing, punctuated by bursts of heavy explosives and worse ravaging what had once been the city of Zurich.

Then there was the distinct smell of gore and viscera.

It filled Angela’s nostrils, as she tried to shake her head and clear her vision, a torn and bloodied black glove pressed to her temple. It was not unfamiliar. The doctor had been in many field camps with desperately injured and drying soldiers and civilians, and on missions with casualties with Overwatch in the past.

With tearing, awful pain, Angela pulled herself up onto her elbows, spitting away dirt and concrete dust from her mouth. She could clearly see the stain of crimson in it, but it was of no concern, nor was the pain radiating from her leg, or from her back and stomach. A few feet away, protected barely at all by the concrete brim of a ruined car parking space, was scorched and twisted gold and blue, streaks of black and carmine seeping from rents in both armor plating and flexible joints between panels.

A wracking cough made Angela’s eyes lose focus, vision blurring. The pain was too intense, past the point of shock being induced. Cold logic in her mind ordered her shaking fingers to slide back, a hand reaching to her waist with no small effort and unclasping one of her belt pouches. Several small nano-injectors fell out, but only one had the telltale yellowish glow of active nanite serum within. She gripped it, the point digging into her exposed palm, and a tiny jolt of healing fluid raced into her bloodstream.

The pain receded faintly, and her vision became almost clear enough to make out more details of the fallen figure she was facing. She began to draw herself closer on her elbows and a knee, glancing side-to-side and looking for signs of her Caduceus staff. All she saw were white and gold debris nearly three meters, intermixed with a broken wall.      

At the discovery, the Swiss managed a short, painful snort of grim amusement.

It really was as bad as it seemed. She allowed herself a split-second of thought at the coincidence of Zurich, of all places, being where things would come to an end. Perhaps it meant something, or perhaps nothing at all. Angela pulled herself up a bit higher on her elbows, narrowing her eyes on the fallen form just outside her reach.

Fareeha’s visor was cracked, a third of the reflective gold-treated material missing, but it let Angela see her face. A dark-skinned eye, udjat tattoo of the eye of Horus, looked back at her. The other woman’s lips curved in the faintest smile as she saw her moving.

A voice in Angela’s ear bud invaded her attention.

“Across the car park. Pharah and Mercy are down with oncoming enemy forces, including heavy vehicles.”

The doctor realized she had heard the chatter from the active war zone the whole time, but only at the direct mention of herself and Fareeha did it snag enough attention to be noticed. Her attention fell to the outstretched arm, reticulated gauntlet falling away from a dark-skinned hand. Fingers reached out toward her.

Angela could hear the encroaching sounds of machine and man alike. They would not have long. Her blaster was discarded behind her, its charge spent. Fareeha’s rocket launcher was empty a few feet away. The doctor could still feel the recoil and propellant in her hair and on her face from where she had desperately tried to provide them cover after they had gone down.

Angela dragged herself onward, reaching out and grasping the Egyptian’s hand tightly. It felt tight, at the least, but she knew their holds were both as fragile as a blade of grass. Either way, it relieved her, and the smile on Fareeha’s face softened.

“Hey, wife,” Fareeha said. The blood on her lips was thick, dark.

“Hey, wife,” Angela replied, ruefully smiling in return. She knew she looked no better.

“Check the zone. Is it clear of friendlies at 52m northest from coordinates 22.42.3?” Hana’s voice cut into the comm line. “Forces moving up on the evac trucks, I’m not gonna let them catch all those people! Self-Destruct Sequence is ready.”

“D.Va, Pharah and Mercy are down in that area, no responses.”

Angela closed her eyes for a moment, and took a shuddering, deep breath.

She met Fareeha’s ochre eyes when she reopened them, and Angela smiled again. Fareeha seemed to nod, but Angela knew it was her imagination. Her fingers had gone limp.

“Angela, Fareeha, are you there? I can get in and give you cover!” D.Va’s voice was quick, tense. She was under fire, the distinct sound of impacts against her MEKA’s defense matrix coming through the channel.

“We’re clear, Hana,” Angela said.

“The coordinates don’t-“

“If Angela says it’s clear, trust her,” interrupted the hasty drawl of McCree.

“Cut the chatter and go, D.Va.” Morrison’s order came through tersely, professionally.

There was an echoing boom as the thrusters on D.Va’s mech kicked into full power, muffled only slightly on by the collapsed wall near the fallen pair.

“Self-Destruct Sequence Initiated.”

For a moment, the figure of Hana Song, in her pilot’s uniform, flitted above the wall as she ejected from the back of the shuddering, glowing MEKA arcing through the sky toward the oncoming tanks and omnics bearing down on Pharah and Mercy.

“Ange, Reeha!” D.Va’s voice was frantic on the comm line. “What are you doing?”

Angela closed her eyes, and channeled away the pain in her body, and heart. It was them or hundreds of fleeing civilians, with no guarantee they would survive even if help came. A calculated choice. With a last burst of effort, she picked herself up to her knees.

“I shall lay down beside my wife, and we will enter Valhalla together.”

Angela collapsed against Fareeha, still holding her hand. Her other fell to the crack in her visor, a quick brush of fingertips closing her eyes, before it came to rest against her face. A small smile crept onto her lips. It was their calling in life to save and protect. She knew Fareeha was with her, and she knew with the certainty of the imminent end before her that there was nothing to regret of their time together.

The world went white, and silence overtook the Overwatch communications line.

**Author's Note:**

> I may have teared up writing this. 
> 
> Please let us know if you liked our writing, and feel free to leave any constructive criticism in comments here or in asks at our tumblrs:  
> http://aonara-starfallen.tumblr.com/  
> http://offkeelworld.tumbr.com/


End file.
